When Harry Potter got Bored: the EPIC
by Tumblequ
Summary: What can a million galleon playboy do in his spare time…? Well, play a few tricks on the media, certainly... after all when you're stinking rich and worldwide famous… what have you got to lose? après Hogwarts fic minor HBP spoilers.


**When Harry Potter got Bored: the EPIC  
**Phase ONE: What the Prophet spoke

**By **Tumblequ

With love

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**Warnings: **This fiction is rated R for: offensive language, mature themes, nudity and abuse (in later chapters).  
**Summary: **What can a million galleon playboy do in his spare time…? Well, the media certainly want to know, so let's ask Harry Potter himself… après Hogwarts fic (minor HBP spoilers).  
**Chapter Summary: **Harry and Hermione have a chat in Hermione's office, about the past, the present and the future. Not to mention a 'discussion' about what Harry's got up his sleeve in concerns to a certain country… Although, please people… I don't ship HP/HR!  
**Small A/N:  
**Small note: this fic is set in 2001 in the HP timeline – Harry and the gang are now in their twenty-ones, in the real world and workforce… well… kinda. Harry is such a tramp sighs 

Please do review, peeps )

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The banner over the stage presented the words: **'URGENT PRESS CONFERENCE CALLED BY HARRY POTTER' **infoot-high golden letters. It was magically altered so the background flashed different colours every few seconds and the letters in the words occasionally tried to jump off the sign and make a bid for freedom. 

The stage was obviously temporary, and had only a medium sized podium in the centre. No one was standing on it as they waited for Harry Potter to appear.

But while they waited, the spectators of news reporters did what they did best: they gossiped.

No one knew why the conference had been called, not even the editor of _The Daily Prophet_, who was talking at a hundred miles an hour to her fellow editors of _Witch Weekly, City Witch, Muggle translations: how to understand their papers _and even _Quidditch Season Seasonally_.

Across the nation in every witch and wizards house their WizV's (the magical equivalent of 'TV') were turned on and focused on channel 666, who had managed to somehow buy the exclusive rights to this impromptu meeting.

Switching channels wouldn't have done anyone any harm however, as channels one through one thousand were all owned by the same company who ran six-six-six. This made for interesting viewing, if you weren't a Harry Potter fan… _not_.

At the stage where the conference was due to be held the sun shone brightly overhead and the crowd shifted restlessly in their white plastic seats, dragging their feet across the pathetic patches of grass trying to grow.

No one feared they would rush the temporary stage. Despite many rumours to the contrary, the journalists who were admitted to important press conferences (such as the one about to take place) just didn't do that. Their morals may have been as low as the dirt the were scuffing up, but their honour and pride knew no bounds.

A nervous looking man shuffled onto the stage quietly, looking as if he would rather two hundred eyes and seventeen film camera's had _not _just zoomed in on him, with varying looks of annoyance, confusion, anger and glare.

He coughed a little into the microphone as the crowd muttered, seemingly sensing the bad news he was about to depart. He tapped the mic loudly and winced, along with his audience, as the sound echoed screeching around them.

"Good afternoon. As I'm sure you are all aware today's press conference was called for an announcement by Harry Potter – " at the name of their hero the crowd broke into loud mutterings, and a few of the younger journalists shouted questions up to the podium.

With another nervous cough the small chubby man continued: "However, due to unseen events, Mr Potter has been unable to make it today, and has requested that this conference be rescheduled –"

A loud voice from the crowd interrupted him again.

"What was he going to say!" the crowd all muttered in approval, swelling up in agreement. The small man on the stage wiped his brow with a hanky he hastily pulled from his pocket.

"Well now, I do that think Mr Potter wanted to tell you that himself so –" he was cut off as another shout came from the audience.

"He's not here is he? So tell us!" the crows took another angry step forward and the fat man took another step backwards. He was about to explain something (even he didn't know what) about legal issues when a flash of blonde to his right made the poor man sigh in relief.

He scurried off stage as his senior replaced him with her customary icy stare, obviously better at dealing with situations like these than he was. After all, he thought bitterly as he darted under one of the media tents for a cup of water. _She_ had actually been _friends_ with the elusive boy-who-lived. Why _he _had been sent out at all, was, as many things were to the small brained man, a mystery.

* * *

Offstage, Hermione Granger leaned against one of the support pillars and bent over – her head in her hands. When she came back up there was a packet of cigarette's clutched tightly in her long, red-pained fingers. With a long-suffering sigh she lit one up and breathed out slowly. 

A stage hand scurried up behind her, looking unaccountably nervous as she offered a letter to the Media Liaison Minister. Hermione didn't even look at the shy girl as she grabbed the letter, her eyes narrowing with realisation and accusation as she recognised the envelope and crest.

Taking a long drag of her cigarette she peeled the envelope open and pulled out the flimsy thin paper within. With a wry laugh she held the paper up to the light and watched as it became virtually transparent.

Harry had some strange hang-ups, but as the boy-who-lived, he could afford them.

Hang-ups be damned however, she would be giving him hell when she next saw him: what he had done this afternoon was unforgivable. He simply could not, boy-who-lived _or no_, go around calling press conferences and then refusing to turn up to them without any warning whatsoever.

It simply wasn't polite behaviour.

She read the letter quickly and didn't even try to correct herself as her bottom lip curled in disgust, causing her face to contort into a rather ugly look and the cigarette in her lips to bob up and down agitatedly. The last line of the letter made her want to hit something… hard. Only Harry had _that _unique talent (the last line being: _just do it, dickhead) _After a quick re-read of the letter she screwed it up and chucked it, along with her half finished cigarette, onto the ground. Pulling out a breathe freshener she ground them into the dirt and stalked over to the side stage, sucking the tictac in her mouth with abandon.

With quick footsteps she climbed up onto the stage, ignoring the frantic stage hands and the sweating Mr Richards trying to calm the crowd (it wasn't working. Whatever the idiot man was doing seemed to be having the exact opposite of the desired effect). The journalists were annoyed, and making no attempt to disguise it.

Hermione was annoyed, and _she _made no attempt to disguise it.

Harry was obviously up to something. You weren't his friend through thick and thin not to notice when the boy-who-lived cooked up some half-baked plan for glory. Although, Hermione thought as she gave Richards an icy glare and indicated off stage, Harry never really actually wanted the same sort of glory everyone else did. But that by no means meant he didn't want glory.

With a large plastic smile plastered over her face, a flick of dead-straight peroxided hair and a flash of lip-gloss in the sunlight, Hermione turned to the audience and motioned for quite. She would play Harry's game for now, she owed him, but she wanted some answers.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I can't tell you how sorry I am that Harry has been unable to make it today… However only a few moments ago I received a very _interesting_ letter…"

As she stepped off stage fifteen minutes later Hermione fingered both her pack of hand-rolled Wizard Puffs™ and the small rattly tictac packet.

Damn. How could Ron want her to quit?

* * *

Another fifteen minutes after that Hermione returned to the ministry building, sweating under her white, silk shirt and relatively short black office skirt. She opened the door to her office with the specialised key, and without looking up snapped out an order. 

"Harry, get off my bloody desk you little tramp" this said she slammed the door behind her and threw her small red handbag across the room, apparently aiming for the smug smile of her friends face. She missed, as the bag landed with a sickening sound of glass shattering on the cream coloured carpet.

Hermione shrugged off her black business jacket and hung it up on the door stand. Then she turned to glare at Harry Potter, who only smirked back at her, chewing on his bottom lip and looking generally sexy.

Not that Hermione would ever admit it.

With a snarl at him, Hermione pulled out her small packet of tictacs and poured the whole lot into her mouth, never taking her eyes of the 'elusive boy-who-lived' all the while.

Harry's eyebrow jerked upwards as he watched his friend inhale the tictac goodness, and he held up an empty packet of Wizard Puffs™ that had been lying on her desk that morning. She scowled to let him know she didn't care if he told Ron she hadn't quit (like she said she had), but walked forward to snatch the packet out of his hands anyway.

Harry chuckled delightedly at this torture and Hermione shot him a glare that she hope conveyed the message 'go screw yourself' in the plainest possible terms. Just to be sure that Harry had gotten the message (as Harry was only smirking wider, rather than dropping down dead) she said:

"Go wank yourself pretty-boy. I have a job to do, and you are in my way" she walked over to her handbag and began scooping the things that had spilled out back in, looking annoyed and not in the least expecting Harry to leave. As she bent over Harry was presented with a unique memory-photo of her arse. He pulled a face.

"God Hermione, you look like some skank. Especially when you wave your butt in the air like that" he fake gagged behind her back as she spun around angrily, but he continued before she could open her mouth to say anything.

"And I'd just like to know – what 'job' was that you were talking about? Is your new secretary coming in soon… John was it? 'Cos if that's the 'job' you got, please don't let me disturb you from making a living…" Harry made to look like he was getting up, but sank back down with another smirk as Hermione stalked towards him and, resisting the incredibly strong urge to give him a black eye, gave him a very violent finger instead.

"Get out of my office you little druggie!" she screeched unhappily as she pointed, also violently, towards the door she had come in from.

Harry just gave her a suggestive wink.

"You know you want me, 'mione" after a few seconds of silence while Hermione stood horrified, her finger still pointing at the doorway and Harry looking, as he had since Hermione had first entered the office, amused, both of them began to laugh.

Hermione gave Harry a brief one-armed hug and continued on with rescuing the contents of her hand-bag.

As she did this she turned to give Harry a curious look over her shoulder.

"So what's up then, Mr Potter? Hmm? What are you up to, cancelling press conferences like that? Especially the ones that have the possibility of getting your best-friend in a shit-load of trouble!" Hermione took a deep breathe and fingered the empty packet of tictacs, edgily.

Harry had the distinct impression she was weighing them up for another shot at him.

He held up his hands in surrender.

"Well now, this may shock and horrify you and I'd just like to comment before we go on that I will not be paying any psychiatrist's bills… but I have a plan" Harry grinned at Hermione as he took a seat in one of the leather couches visitors were invited into.

Hermione looked sceptical.

"Why is it that I remember your last plan ending in marshmallows, martinis and yellow lycra?" she finally settled for in he search for the most tactful thing to say, given the circumstances. It didn't seem to work, as Harry gave her a hurt look.

"None of that was my fault. I readily admit I made the small mistake of inviting the twins to help me come up with that plan, but apart from that, it would have been fool-proof!"

"Apart from the fact that it wasn't, you say?" Hermione asked blandly.

Harry shot her a dirty look and pretended he hadn't heard her.

"But _anyway_: my plan is the bestest plan you ever did hear, and it involves a little bit of payback for our dear, _dear_ wizarding world" the grin on his face did two things to Hermione: the first was the make her want to run over to him and start tearing his clothes off and kiss every part of his body… and the second was groan into her hands.

Harry tended to have some rather unique ideas about 'revenge' on the wizarding world. At least – they would have been unique had not Fred and George discussed them in detail with him beforehand.

She settled for the latter of the two options and propped her head up in her hands while Harry rolled his eyes at her not-so-enthusiastic response.

"Well it doesn't matter if you agree with me or not, Hermione, because I'm going to do it all the same. I'm going to play the biggest trick on the media you have ever heard of. I am going to make trashy magazines like _Witch Weekly _never able to print another article with my name in it for their entire lives without cringing. I am going to totally, _totally, _have the entire nation of Britain under my control!"

And Harry continued to relate his plan of world domination, occasionally bursting into erratic cackles at the thought of things to come.

When he was done, Hermione was looking at him with a mixture of horror, amazement, amusement and fear.

Harry nodded his head wisely at her incapacity for speech.

As Hermione remained in her open-mouthed position, Harry frowned and walked over to her desk to forcefully close it for her.

"Wouldn't want Johnny to come in and get any ideas, Hermione. Wouldn't want to put anything in his… _head" _Harry cackled again at his pathetic joke, and Hermione glowered at him, but didn't say anything, a slight blush creeping across her face. If Harry noticed, he ignored it.

"So how long have you two been getting it on?" Harry asked casually as he reposted himself on Hermione's desk. He ignored her annoyed look and began to toy around with some of the office-y things scattered (very neatly) around her desk.

Hermione coughed a little.

"Honestly Harry, I hired him last week! Do you really think –" Harry cut her off with a chuckle.

"Hermione I know you too well! Let's face it; you know as well as I do that the guy's a total dick. In, apparently, more ways than one if you hired him" Hermione pulled a face, but accepted the words. John was a dick. And he was a dick in other ways too. She grunted, and tried to push her friend off her desk, again.

After failing in this attempt she sat back and opened a draw in the desk, pulling out a fresh packet of Wizard Puffs™ and lighting one up with a lazy hand movement. The heat of the flame against her skin and the sweet smell of burning tobacco made her smile happily and lean back into her chair. She was almost tempted to prop her feet up on the desk… But she hadn't come that far, yet.

Harry made a face at the cigarette and stood up, moving around the room restlessly.

"Come to think of it Harry, why do you _care_ who I screw? I mean, it's not like you're… jealous… or anything" Harry waved dismissively, seeing the clear gab in her words.

"Ron's always badgering me about it. Although I think he'd die if he realised you were this… candid with me. He seems to think anything he says about you stays between us blokes" Harry shrugged, and Hermione leaned forward suggestively again, lips puckered as she took a long drag of the cigarette.

"And does it, Harry?"

Harry gave her a politely incredulous look.

"Some of it does… some of it doesn't…"

Hermione tittered to herself and leant back, apparently pleased with this answer.

The two stayed silent for a few minutes, Hermione blowing smoke up into the air every few seconds and Harry tracing the elaborate carvings on a chest of filing cabinets near the door.

After a while of this Hermione pressed the intercom and motioned for Harry to be quite.

"Hi Johnny, it's 'mione. I was just wondering if you could bring me in two cups of coffee and some…" she looked up at Harry inquisitively, but he just rolled his eyes, imitating the sickly sweet 'Johnny' again "…jam biscuits I think. Or vovos! I love vovos!" Hermione sounded so sickeningly sweet that Harry faked gagging in the corner.

The intercom crackled back that it would be there in a few minutes, with refreshments.

Harry scowled and stood up, stretching.

"I'm assuming that coffee isn't for me, then?"

Hermione didn't even look at him as she slipped her shoes off and propped them up on the desk.

"If you want to stay, then stay. I'm not going to stop you going, but John knows I have a visitor until one. He's not going to walk in doing a strip tease"

Harry faked disappointment, then shrugged.

"Nothing I haven't seen in the showers before"

Hermione sighed.

"What I wouldn't give to have been in the boys quidditch changing rooms after one of those tough matches against Slytherin you used to tell me about…" she trailed off dreamily, still juggling her cigarette with one hand. Harry rolled his eyes at this slightly once-out-of-character-but-not-any-more comment.

"When we were in Hogwarts Hermione, you went totally _fuchsia _as the mere _mention _of the word 'sex' or 'dick' or 'dildo'" on his last word Hermione spluttered forward, almost burning herself with the stub of her cigarette. She shot Harry a withering look and then burst out into laughter.

"So true" she finally managed, just as a knock came from the door.

Harry scowled. Correctly guessing who was at the door.

Once John had come and gone with their refreshments Hermione sat cross-legged in her leather swively chair. Harry was once more propped up with a cup of incredibly strong coffee, looking at a magazine that Hermione had put out for guests, circling the models he liked and crossing the ones he didn't.

Hermione looked up from her silent contemplation.

"You know Harry, we've all changed since Hogwarts. Leaving in sixth year and all… I think it really messed us all up. I mean; less than half the grade even took their NEWTs at all, let alone passed. You not included in that number, as you neither took them nor passed them" Hermione gave Harry a stern look, but sighed before he had even looked up from his coffee mug.

She fiddled with the pack of cigarette's on her desk, obviously trying to decide whether to have another.

"God, Harry! You of all people should know that people change when they grow up!" she burst out suddenly, her voice choking slightly. Harry didn't look at her, keeping his eyes glued to the coffee mug. He muttered out an answer just loud enough for her to hear him.

"Actually, no. I've always been a lazy pig and nothing has changed since I lived at the Dursley's. Of all of us, Hermione, you're the one that's changed since school. And to tell you the truth I can't even remember when it happened… sometime after the war, I think. But I can't track down the dates in my mind. One second you were Hermione-I-want-to-be-the-first-female-minister-for-magic-ever and the next you threw it all away for… whatever it is you have now" he finished with a small shrug, finally looking up at his friend.

Hermione was looking lost.

"Have I really changed that much?" she asked almost nervously, and certainly vaguely.

Harry nodded in a non-committed type of way.

"More than that, actually" he said as he returned to doodling on the magazine.

"Ron's the only one who's stayed the same, actually. Of everyone. Although Ginny seems to be mostly herself. God. When did I last see Ginny?" he continued to himself. Hermione scowled across her desk at him.

"Easter party, I remember walking into my temporary bedroom at The Borrow being a bit sick of the party downstairs, not to mention the rotten cold I had… only to find there was one I hadn't even known about going on in my bedroom" she snapped at Harry.

Harry just shrugged and waved it away, apparently not caring that his best friend had caught him doing bad things with his other best friends sister, red handed.

"Oh that surprises me Hermione. Parties in your bedroom are the type of thing I expected from you a lot" he shot her a sly grin and ducked a little as she picked up the packet of Wizard Puffs™. The move was in vain though, as Hermione put them back down, apparently making the decision that the cigarettes were more important to her than her pride.

Harry laughed as Hermione carefully replaced the pack on her desk.

"I'm meeting Ginny later for a late lunch, actually" Harry said, taking one of the tictacs Hermione offered him.

His blonde friend raised an eyebrow and crunched up on one of the small sweets, enjoying the 'burst of flavour' she got from chewing the small white capsules.

"I hope that meeting won't be in my bedroom again"

It was Harry's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"I thought your room was taken, after one o clock today?" he indicated the intercom. While Hermione shrugged, looking pointedly at the comfortable couch he was propped up in.

Harry sat up as though he had been electrocuted.

"Ewww! Yuckyuckyuck! That's _gross_ Hermione! Did you absolutely _need _to share that information with me?" Harry brushed himself off, and stood offended near the door.

Hermione offered him a bland look and he stopped frantically trying to dust himself off with a shrug.

"We're getting together in some café in London. Nothing dubious, a nice place actually. They have good coffee. We're gonna have a chat about… her job" Harry muttered darkly as he said this, and Hermione smirked.

Since Ginny had left school before her sixth year, she had been forced to continue on with her schooling when Hogwarts re-opened, a year later. Her first day of school in her sixth year (which should have been her seventh) had, apparently, been something she was dreading.

But it hadn't mattered. She'd completed her schooling a year behind schedule and almost immediately after taking her NEWTs, managed to gain an internship with _The Daily Prophet_. Pretty soon after that she was given the responsibility of the so called 'gossip' columns. She responded to rumours sent in by faithful listeners with vamped up fairy tales, which she then presented as the Absolute Truth.

Lately she had been starting to give hints about Harry Potter having a 'secret fiancé' who, apparently, he was hiding in France to get away from the press.

Apparently his frequent disappearances (when he spent a few days straight clubbing in LA or staying home in his million dollar muggle unit) where due to his romantic week-ends in France with candles, spas and the love of his life.

For once, though, the public had been fighting for their freedom of speech: quite a few letters had come in claiming that the writers had all slept with Harry Potter in the last month, and that meant he probably wasn't madly in love with a French Mademoiselle.

Ginny had taken malicious delight in printing these letters every day.

Not that his reputation was being harmed in any way. In fact, if anything, _Witch Weekly _found his quest for 'the right wife' as; (quote) charming and charismatic (unquote). He knew what he wanted, it told its viewers, and he was looking for it.

Why not try and see if you're Cinderella, ladies?

Harry was determined to ruin the editor of _Witch Weekly_, but so far, all attempts had ended with bad hang overs and very few memories of the night before.

Inevitably, after these occasions _Witch Weekly _sounded even smugger than usual in their 'What's Harry Potter doing this week?' column. Although no direct allusions were ever made, Harry could _guess _what the missing bits in his memory contained.

He gave the grinning Hermione a dirty look.

All of his friends seemed to think that the situation was entirely hilarious. Girls giggled in corners and blokes kept on thumping him on the back admiringly. He was seeing a muggle physiotherapist in Iowa the next day.

Hopefully, they would _not_ pinch his arse when he asked for pain relief.

Harry pulled a sulky face and Hermione looked at him in annoyance.

"Oh, go fuck yourself" she said lazily as he continued to look like a kid deprived from lunch at McDonalds. She sounded like she was getting bored of him, and Harry, agreeing that this meeting had gone on long enough without clothes being scattered around the room stood up to leave (the longest conversation he'd had with a female since he was seventeen, actually).

He paused at the doorway, watched languidly by Hermione, who had pulled another Wizards Puff™ from the packet.

"Disgusting habit." he said loudly "how many do you get through a day?" he indicated the packet of twenty. Hermione shrugged.

"Two or three packs. It's not like they're doing me any damage Harry. God, you're so muggle sometimes. Wizards don't _get _cancer, remember? Not to mention they're magically filtered, and just normal tobacco… nothing seedy. Which is more than I can say for you last Saturday" she said in reference to a party both Harry and Hermione had happened to, completely separately, attend.

Harry shrugged in agreement.

"A one off"

He turned to go again, and paused again.

"Don't forget my plan, 'mione. Britain is MINE! And you would be warned not to try and intervene!"

Hermione rolled her eyes at the suddenly dramatic tone.

"Whatever, pretty-boy. Just leave Johnny his job, and I'm out of the equation" she drawled, taking another drag before stubbing the cigarette in the already full ashtray.

Harry made another face.

"God you get through those quickly" he managed, before waving a little and starting to open the door.

Just as Harry was stepping out he turned around to Hermione suddenly, a curiously thoughtful look on his face. He held up a finger to signify he had only one more question.

"And while I remember; why did you call me a 'druggie' before? When we were having our normal, friendly greeting ceremony" Harry said dryly with sarcasm crisping his words nicely. Situated comfortably at her desk Hermione paused from the parchment she was considering and looked up, also thoughtful.

Eventually she shrugged and returned to the report in front of her.

"Oh, I'm sure there's a reason Harry. If you don't care to share, I'm hardly going to go around forcing answers out of you. Just remember; _I've _seen you totally smashed at parties, your little pupils about the size of nano-colonies" she muttered vaguely and made a swatting motion towards the door, signalling the conversation over and for him to remove himself from the premises immediately (this was how most of their meetings ended, nowadays.)

Harry did so, but not before he had gotten the final word:

"Should I tell Johnny to come in, now then? I'm sure he wouldn't mind _coming_" Harry put a special emphasis on the word coming and slammed the door just in time to block a particularly good shot with an extremely expensive glass-blown paperweight from his female friend.

A few people looked up curiously at the strangled scream that could be heard before the latch clicked properly into place, and Harry was uncomfortably reminded that Hermione worked in a media liaison office. Ergo – he was surrounded by journalists whose eyes were all flicking to his forehead and the schedule on their desk that told them he had recently cancelled a press-conference for no apparent reason.

With a hasty good-bye rap on the door he swivelled around – disapperating with a soft _crack _before he was even through a full revolution. Inside, he left Hermione with a secretly amused grin on her face, although she'd die before she let _Harry_ see it.

He might get ideas… and she was, after all, _way_ out of his league.

* * *

**A/N: **Welcome to my newest fic, please don't forget to review on your way out. And just something my beta got incredibly confused about when she read this (and told _me_ incredibly vocally in our school library, which we then got kicked out of, that she was incredibly confused) _Hermione has dyed her hair **blonde**_. Yes. I know. But that's what she's done because that's the type of person I, as the author of this fic, have decided she would want to do. Also… Ginny's hair is now **black** and… should I make Harry dye his hair too? I reeeaaallly want to… guys with light hair, dark roots are just… the word is there, underlined actually. 

Also: This fic will **NOT **be a Harry/Hermione one. If this chapter gave you any ideas, then I'm afraid they're wrong. Although they may hook up for a little while… I, personally, don't believe in true love conquering all and lasting forever… at least not Harry/Hermione wise, as HBP should prove to all you doubters!

In fact… future ships in this fic will not be serious. If Harry decides to settle down it won't be for a while and it won't be with Hermione, and even better, it won't be in this fic. He is, after all, a total playboy.

Oh god. Long authors note and this is the first chapter! What is the world _COMING TO? _

Well… you can all make it worthwhile for me by reviewing and telling me whether to continue, because I really _won't_ if I don't get the proper encouragement!

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**From the BETA to the PEOPLE- AN EPIC**

**Hello everyone, I am the beta of this hilarious fic though I must say I am disappointed with the whole Harry's-a-total-playboy-and-doesn't-get-together-with-anyone-and-will-die-alone-and-eaten-by-Alastians-a'la-Bridget-Jones. But I am only the lowly beta who only has say in the story by sneaking in little tid-bits when the author is being vaguer than usual. He he. Just joking she's my friend… I think. I am looking forward to where this story is going as it is definitely individual considering pretty much everyone in this story is a bitch (including Harry sob sob)**

**Control yourself, beta. **

**Till next chapter- which I will make sure is not too long away- Good afternoon, good evening and good night.**

* * *

PS – in this fic lets do something really, _really _naughty, alright? Lets just pretend that HBP _never happened. _Got it? (Well… I suppose it did kinda happen… But I'm choosing liberally which parts did and which parts didn't P) So we'll just say… 

It _never happened._


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